


And She Was

by dancedance_resolution



Series: the AMCU (Andi Mack Cinematic Universe) [1]
Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Andiversary Week 2020, Day 1: Ships, F/F, briefly references picture of dorian gray bc i'm a ~cultured gay~, does this fic make sense? no (:, not a song fic but also sort of.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:02:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25372822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancedance_resolution/pseuds/dancedance_resolution
Summary: Amber and Andi graduate high school and move to Baltimore together.///my attempt at an obnoxiously galaxy-brained interpretation of the song “and she was” by the talking heads. my work for day 1 of andiversary week 2020.
Relationships: Amber/Andi Mack
Series: the AMCU (Andi Mack Cinematic Universe) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856911
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	And She Was

**Author's Note:**

> TWs: briefly mentions a Christian church and some religious concepts/imagery
> 
> Notes: Andi and Amber are the same age in this fic (for ease of plot reasons). Also, in case it's not clear, MICA is an art college in Baltimore.
> 
> This fic was heavily inspired by "And She Was" by The Talking Heads.

_There was a patch of grass by the Bond Street Wharf where everything collided. They could hear a faint thumping bass from the Sound Garden weaving itself with the loud laughter and live music emanating from the Fell’s Point bars. And when they listened closely, the unsteady rolling of cars along the cobblestone streets intermingled with the white-noise rush of I695. Laying there, it was as if the traffic rose and fell in the same rhythm as their lungs._

_While the industrial features surrounded them, the mighty Chesapeake engulfed the area, grounding it. The city rooted itself in the bay, finding consciousness in its force. And as they gulped in the air—the salty smell of the brackish beast blended with the city’s fumes—they couldn’t help but notice how their flip-flops made a much nicer sound on the wooden piers than the concrete._

_When the Water Taxi turned on its headlights for the evening, she pressed a quick kiss to her partner’s lips. The sun sunk beneath the Domino Sugar sign as she grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet. She took a moment to concentrate her gaze, her eyes finding clarity in her love’s._

_It was no New York, and it didn’t try to be. It was no paradise, but its people were working towards a better tomorrow. It reveled in its own gloriousness, in its own transcendence. There was a certain magic, a certain poeticism, in Baltimore’s pulsating breath._

\---

Senior year’s end had prompted conversations of the future—of their future. They were sprawled across Andi’s backyard grass discussing their friends’ college plans when suddenly, Amber’s timid voice announced, “So, I committed to UMBC. The scholarship for the expedited social work track was too good to turn down.”

“Amber!” Andi gleefully shouted, turning her face to look her girlfriend in the eyes. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Yeah, I’m excited,” she said, failing to hide the reservation in her voice.

“What’s wrong?” Andi gently inquired.

“I’ll be in Maryland. Way out east.” A few moments passed before Amber continued, “Andi, why are you smirking? Oh god, your smirk is scaring me.”

“So,” Andi sang as she sat up, pulling Amber up with her. “I may have heard back from the Walter’s people last night and—”  
  


“Andi! Wait! No, did they—”

“—I’m officially the Pratt outreach manager!”

Amber tackled Andi with a hug. For four agonizing months now, Andi had been in contact with Walter’s Art Museum in Baltimore, in pursuit of a position where she would integrate art exposure and creativity initiatives into various programs in the city’s Pratt library system.

  
“And with the stipend and salary and all—MICA is looking achievable!”

Amber hopped up joyfully. “The dream job and part-time classes at an amazing art university? Andi, you are absolutely crushing it.”

Andi shot up as well, joining her girlfriend in a tight hug. “And you at UMBC… Us, out East, together, _living_. The fates have been pretty good to us, huh?”

\---

_They felt it when their hands fit perfectly into each other’s. They felt it when there was a sole parking spot next to a streetlamp and within walking distance of their apartment. They felt it when they strolled by St. Leo’s the week before the St. Gabriele festival, the chatter of the women cooking within the grand building enveloping the street. They felt it when they gently pressed a finger onto the portraits in Graffiti Alley, needing their touch to confirm that the raw and frank beauty was truly in front of them, there for them._

_It was the music of the spheres—how the heavens vibe in perfect proportion. How the celestial bodies have grooved and stretched and performed a ballet every night. How the aeons will never tire, how the doming majesty of the night sky will eternally sway to humanity’s hymns. It was the resonant exhale of the orbits of the galaxy’s giants, the elegant trapeze act of the twinkling teals and topazes above them, the tones and intervals of the universe’s sonatas._

_It was all there. And they were there. For it. With it. In it. A part of the musica universalis._

\---

Within a month, Amber and Andi found themselves blowing all the money they’d earned last summer on a rent fund for a tiny studio apartment in Baltimore. They had a plan.

The day after graduation, a tearful goodbye to their friends and family began the weeklong road trip east. It was chaos, but honestly, they expected it to be so. The week spent in cheap motels and a moving-box-filled, gas-guzzling ’04 minivan was emphatically _not_ a symphony. But Amber said it was the mark of a good couple that they were able to embrace the chaos hand in hand (well, at least until said hands got sweaty or bored.)

They arrived in the city the first week of June. In three months, they’d have easy commutes to their classes and work. And when their lease was up in six months, they’d re-evaluate.

But for now, with the blank walls and bare floor staring back at them, re-evaluation was the last thing on their mind. The only thing that mattered was the glory—and possibility—of now.

\---

_There was something about the idea of perception that enraptured her. As an artist, she built and created. But even the tactile was only passing. Never would she truly be able to hold on to it; time would continue dancing on—dancing through her, dancing beyond her. But what was stopping her from dancing_ with _it?_

_There was a small greenspace near Harbor Point where they enjoyed ice cream and their love’s presence as they sat on the rock slabs. The white and gray rectangles were positioned around the grassy expanse like a picture frame. With a giggly smile, she jumped up from the thousands-of-years-old stone and pulled her girlfriend’s hand to encourage her to follow._

_And it was like they were drifting as they kicked off their flip flops and indulged in the sensation of the cool grass beneath their feet; the feeling emanated realms of meaning that neither woman could ever fully understand, but would cherish all the same. They were vaguely aware of gravity, of the atmosphere that suppressed them, but don’t you know that that’s the same gravity that gives them the freedom to fly? The same atmosphere in which they learned to soar?_

_Rhythmic, but never mechanical. Free, but never an imposition._

_Their shoes found their way back onto their feet, acting as a barrier between them and the surrounding grounds they then explored. With every step, they continued to find their place, their city._

\---

Amber and Andi’s first night in the apartment was almost surreal. After blowing up the portable mattress—they planned to buy a real mattress in the next few days—they collapsed onto it with relief. They were here. A new home. _Their_ new home.

_Finally_.

After grabbing an admittedly expensive pizza—the best Andi had ever had, and the fourth best Amber had ever had—from a place in Little Italy that had good Yelp reviews, they sat cross-legged on the empty hardwood floor of the studio apartment. They FaceTimed their friends and family and absorbed every message and sentiment of love.

As they settled into for the night, post-three hour FaceTime session, Andi turned towards Amber. “So, do we have a plan for tomorrow?”

“No. Why would we need one?”

“Because plans are nice. They help orient you.”

“‘Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.’ John Lennon.”

“Mm, try 1957 Reader’s Digest article.”

“What?”

“The quote was in a 1957 Reader’s Digest article long before Glasses Boy sung it on American radio.”

“‘Glasses boy!’” Amber gasped with mock indignation.

“He has nice glasses! It’s a compliment!”

“Mhm,” came the sarcastic response.

“But more importantly, we’re not rich and famous hippy musicians who can get away with no structure. Flexibility, yes, but the absence of any plan?”

“Alright, alright,” Amber conceded as she eased onto the worn air-mattress. “Um, how about mattress shopping?”

Andi smiled. “To Goodwill it is!” She proceeded to take out her contacts and turn off the light.

Within a few minutes, the white noise of the city’s bustle began to lull Amber to sleep.

“Hey Amber?” Andi whispered.

“Yeah?” Amber’s voice was muffled and groggy.

“We’re, like, adulting! Go us?”

“Go us.”

\---

_It took a few days for the reality to set in, for the sheer physical distance between them and their friends and family to hit them. There was an outward resonance to their action, and only now did it ring through their ears._

_But they were still glad—perhaps blindly, but doubtlessly and joyfully glad all the same. The move was intentional, and every step they took in their new home wove them deeper into the threads of the city. With every song, every breath, every journey, they created their belonging._

_There was a collective consciousness among the suburban tourists, and by the time they paid their first electricity bill together, they were able to spot it—how they’d still see the city as it used to be, how they’d be overly cautious of the wrong things, or how they’d miss those undefinable details that made each spot within the city bounds a true destination._

_Evolution was an ongoing process that touched everything from the most established institution to the feeblest soul. And who was to say that that was a bad thing? When humanity echoes the chants of the centuries, humanity also takes on the responsibility to learn from those sounds and mold those waves in turn._

\---

“Mattress shopping.” Andi exhaled. “This feels significant.” Pausing in the doorway, she surveyed the store. A perfect grid of overpriced and over-glorified soft and springy boxes stared back at her, and out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a salesperson ready to hawk in on them like prey.

“Yeah. About now is when we’re supposed to fearfully gaze at how many years the warranty is and then toy with the idea of what long-term really means.”

“Hey, I had already defined ‘long-term’ in my mind the moment I received that first letter you mailed me. It was around our one year anniversary, but you sent it for no specifiable reason other than to send me some mail. Written in cursive, I might add.”

Amber playfully nudged Andi’s side. “Oh yeah? That was, like, the first week of junior year, babe.”

“What! You know I am unimmune to any girl who can write in cursive.”

Just then, the sales rep approached. “Welcome to Mattress Warehouse!” she exclaimed. “What can I help you with today?”

“Uh, we’re looking for a queen-sized. I don’t have much preference, as long as it’s cheap.”

“And sturdy enough to lay on the floor,” Andi added.

“Oh, well, can I interest you in a bed frame? We have surprisingly affordable options, and if I talk to my manager, I’m sure I could finesse a discount since you’d be buying both a mattress and bedframe from us!”

“Um, no thank you,” Amber said as politely as she could. “We just need a basic queen-sized for the least amount of money possible. Because apparently Goodwill doesn’t accept or sell mattresses…”

“Ah, I see,” the associate said that trademark Customer Service Smile. “Well, is the mattress for the two of you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you congruent sleepers?”

“Would you mind clarifying what that means?” Andi asked, while Amber simultaneously muttered “Bold of you to assume I passed tenth grade geometry.”

As the salesperson led them further into the store, Andi gave Amber a desperate look. _Ugh, screw adulting,_ she thought to herself. _I knew we should have gone to a BSO concert instead._

\---

_They found inspiration at every corner. And when they reflected on themselves and their connection, the poeticism only swelled._

_Or, moral of the story, there’s a reason why Sybil Vane is only a figment of fiction._

_But in a sense, their lives did feel like a narrative at the moment; it was as if the Director had told them the essence of the shot—exploration—and let them, well, explore that theme. So they rose to pleasant elevations, pushed themselves to the less content ones, and sought out every direction._

_They were perfectly human in their imperfection. Every adventure brought mistakes and missteps—some more glaring than others, some more laughable than others. But luckily, they knew that they were intricately-petaled flowers, with room to grow and to gradually flourish._

_She was never a fan of the concepts of “heaven” or “divinity,” but in soft moments when she let her leaves absorb the resonant sun, she couldn’t help but think of those words as she felt herself begin to thrive._

\---

Amber and Andi lasted thirty-four hours without making an irresponsible purchase. Impressive, no?

They were strolling around Mount Vernon and happened upon a mom and pop music store, so of course they had to go in. And there was a beat-up Fender on sale that just needed some love, and the used amp was surprisingly reasonable, and, really, nothing was stopping them…

The store owner tuned the matte mint beauty for them, and Amber and Andi soon began to haul their treasure home. The amp’s cord found a home in the bedroom’s electrical socket, and after a few YouTube tutorials and a WikiHow article, a few triumphant chords filled the apartment.

Andi soon announced that they must celebrate the accomplishment with a home-cooked meal.

“Our kitchen is smaller than you are, babe, and the only materials we have are the plastic take-out utensils we’ve been re-washing and two plates from IKEA.”

“Has that ever stopped anyone before?”

“Oh, most definitely.” But Amber’s logic proved no match for Andi’s pout.

So Andi fashioned a makeshift apron out of an unnecessary blanket—“It’s cold out East!” Bex had insisted—and scoured Pinterest for budget cooking tips while Amber made a quick run to the Prime Corner bodega for some dinner-worthy groceries.

Three hours and one near-fire later, Amber and Andi sat on the curb of Gough Street splitting a purchased salad and Stromboli. “It’s a good thing I didn’t marry you for your domestic homemaking skills.”

“Hey wait, I don’t see a ring on this finger!”

\---

_Some sociologist said that humans don’t feel the things that they lack words for. But they disagreed; it was profoundly felt, that was certain, and it didn’t go unexpressed either. Not when art and movement and action and love existed. After all, just because it wasn’t neat and quantifiable didn’t mean it wasn’t fierce._

_Sometimes love is forte-piano, and sometimes love is a gradual crescendo. Ballerinas communicate with the point and flex of their toes, and sign-language speakers communicate with the positioning of their wrist, palm, fingers, and countenance._

_Every day, they abstractly composed a symphony with one another, with their new city. They placed each note on the staff of the story of their lives with just enough precision to carry their tune, but enough experimentation to leave room for beneficial accidents._

_Because even she who is perfectly in tune with the spheres cannot alone achieve musica universalis. She must be flexible, she must be a bit messy in her pirouettes, she must be loose enough to recognize the moments when she her spirit is full._

_Human’s ideas of harmony and dissonance are culturally engrained. In one part of the globe, a perfect open fifth is the ideal blend, while elsewhere the crunch of a second kindles peace._

_Which implies that the musica universalis is a chaotic blend of an overwhelming_ everything _after all._

_(Precise math was never Amber and Andi’s jazz anyways.)_

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this fic made any sense?? fdhskjfh
> 
> Thank you for reading!! Comments and kudos are appreciated :)))
> 
> And thank you to tumblr's @secretly-of-course for organizing Andiversary Week!


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